The Brooklyn Diaries Remade
by PJ XD
Summary: Alice Brandon is the poor kid, the art freak, at her elite Manhattan prep school. She has always thought of herself as invisible, or inferior. That is, until a friendship with Edward Cullen, one of the most popular guys at school, gives her a fast track to the inside. The more she discovers though, the less perfect their lives seem. Especially in the case of Jasper Whitlock. AH
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: I left this story for a long time, but I couldn't quite let go of the idea. I also realised that I really enjoyed writing it, and while I couldn't get over my writer's block for the old version, I decided to revamp it into a new version and take the story in a slightly different direction. It is also no longer written in diary format, but I hope none of Alice's personality gets lost because of that. Also, after an edit, Alice no longer lives with her dad, she lives with her mom. As the chapters progress, it will become apparent why :)_

 _Disclaimer: All characters belong to Stephanie Meyer. Alice's Manhattan world belongs to Gossip Girl._

* * *

 ** _Chapter One_**

The sounds of banging and clattering, broken up only by the occasional cuss word, woke me on the first Monday of my junior year. I pushed myself upright in bed, blinking to get my bearings. My room was the same as it had been when I shut my eyes last night – sketch pads strewn all over the floor, battered easel standing lopsidedly in the opposite corner to my vanity table – except that my little sister, Cynthia, was perched on the edge of my mattress.

"Do something, Alice," she stage-whispered. "Mom's trying to make waffles."

Immediately, I threw back my duvet and leapt out of bed. My feet had barely touched the floor when I took off running for the kitchen. Our loft apartment was open-plan, which meant I had an unhindered view of the impending culinary catastrophe the second I yanked my bedroom door open.

"Mom, put the waffle iron down!" I exclaimed.

She glanced up at me with surprise – and yes, a little bit of sheepishness – in her kind brown eyes. "I just wanted to make something nice for you girls starting back at school today."

The snarky retort I had been about to utter died on my lips. She was a total mess – plaid shirt splattered with waffle batter, caramel curls in a wild tangle and sticking out in every direction – but she was as well-meaning and optimistic as ever.

She was trying to make everything normal, as she had been all summer. I didn't have the heart to berate her for her efforts.

"Thanks, Mom." I took a seat at the breakfast bar, eyeing the congealed mess she was attempting to scrape onto three plates. "It smells… interesting."

She grinned at me. "Interesting is the word for it."

There was a movement in my peripheral vision as Cynthia pulled up the seat beside me. She glanced down at the lumpy goo as Mom set the plate down in front of her and then back up at her with dismay.

"Oh, what the fuck is this?"

"Cynthia!" Mom and I chided in unison. She only turned thirteen in spring, but she had already developed the fantastically bitchy attitude of the Manhattan teenager.

She shrugged unapologetically and poked at the 'waffles' with her fork. "How is it burnt and undercooked at the same time?"

My eyes flashed to my mother, who looked as though she were caught between the desire to laugh and the desire to scold. Amusement won out when she caught my eye, and both of us cracked up laughing.

"Okay, so I'm not winning Masterchef any time soon," she said. "I'll buy you a bagel on the way to school."

Cynthia looked at her like she'd just confessed to murder. "You mean _you're_ walking me there?"

"Cyn, don't be a bitch," I put in.

"But people will see!" she protested. "I'm in eighth grade, not kindergarten!"

"You're still as much of a pain in the ass as you were in kindergarten, if that helps," I told her. She glared at me with a matched set of the brown eyes that we'd both inherited from our mother.

"Allie, why would you ever think that that would help?" Mom asked, bewildered.

I shrugged, sliding off my stool. There was no way I was going to attempt to eat Mom's waffles, no matter how sweet the gesture was, and I needed to get ready for school.

School. Sigh.

"Where are you going?"

"To get ready."

Cynthia snorted. "You have a uniform, why does it take you so long to get ready in the morning?"

"You wouldn't understand," I replied.

"Why, just because I don't go to Constant-Bullshit?"

"Cynthia!" Mom reprimanded, but this time I almost laughed.

I fixed my sister with a pointed look. "Have you been hanging out with Seth again?" Seth, my best friend since we were pre-schoolers, had begun calling my fancy Manhattan prep school by that derogatory name sometime during my freshman year. Its real name was Constance-Billard School for Girls, but considering that the students were the entitled, uber-rich children of the Upper East Side's elite, the nickname suited it better.

I was the only scholarship kid in my junior class, which meant that I didn't just have to put on a uniform before I went to school each morning. I had to put on fucking armour. Kids can be cruel.

Rich kids, on the other hand… they can be monstrous.

"Yeah. Trust me, if you go out for the scholarship then you'll see exactly what I mean next year." With those parting words, I wandered back into my bedroom.

It took me thirty-one minutes to get ready – my personal best – and I hurriedly blew my mom a kiss on the way out of the door. It was a short walk to the subway. The morning train was packed with commuters to the city, and I found myself sandwiched between a man in a polyester suit and a guy whose music was turned up way too loud in his ears. When the train doors slid open and I finally could spill out onto the platform at my destination, I almost felt relieved.

* * *

Emerging from the subway station and into the Upper East Side, my relief dried up like a puddle in July. Most people that I spoke to were excited about starting their junior year of high school. It was a big deal. Something to look forward to.

Me? Not so much.

Constance-Billard shared a grand old building with our male counterpart school – St Jude's. Essentially, we were one and the same institution, aside from the separate halls for our lockers and gender-segregated classes. As I stood on the sidewalk outside the impressive iron gates that led to the entrance, a boy in a yellow shirt and navy blazer nearly mowed me down.

"Watch it, freak!" he snapped as he swerved at the last minute to avoid me.

I didn't recognise him, which meant he was a freshman. Even the younger boys treated me like shit. Age may come before beauty, but apparently money comes before everything else.

At least in this part of town.

A town car pulled up on the curb beside me as I righted myself, and the back door swung open. I barely had time to hoist my bag securely onto my shoulder before a tall figure stepped smoothly out of the car.

I tried not to stare. I really did. I, Alice Brandon, like to think that I'm above all that teenage schoolgirl swooning crap. For the most part, I am. Except when the guy standing in front of me was Jasper Whitlock.

With his honey-blond curls and his deep blue eyes, he was Adonis in a blazer. He was also the richest and most talked about guy in school. His father owned half of Manhattan. The nice half. I'd seen him every day since I was fourteen, and I would've bet every cent of my meagre savings that he didn't even know my name.

He stepped to one side, and another, smaller figure got out of the car. She was as dark as he was fair, and she wore her Constance uniform in a way that managed to look both virginal and stylish. Maria de Lucia, Jasper's long-term girlfriend. She slotted her hand into his outstretched one, and the two of them headed for the gate.

Maria stopped short when she saw me dithering in the entryway. Unlike her boyfriend, she knew exactly who I was. It had been her personal mission to make my life a living hell since our freshman orientation.

She was a hundred and ten pounds of girly evil, and she was very, very good at it.

"Oh my gosh," she enthused, stretching her dark eyes wide. "Alice Brandon. Don't you look…" Her full lips curved upward into a cruel smile. "Interesting."

"Good to see you, Maria." All my energy went into attempting a smile. "How was your summer?"

"Paris was wonderful. You should really go sometime. You know, if you can save up enough money." The words sounded innocuous enough, but Maria's delivery made it very clear that they were meant solely to put me down. "But it's so great to be back."

"Isn't it just?" I muttered.

"Well, see you in class," she said, grinning widely, before tugging Jasper through the gates and up the steps without a backward glance.

Jasper hadn't even looked at me for the duration of our snide conversation.

"And cast in the role of the invisible woman, we have Alice Brandon," I sighed into the empty air.

"Invisible?" A low, musical voice asked from my right. "Not with that pink stripe in your hair. I'd say that's an attention-grabbing statement."

I spun around in astonishment. The speaker was another tall boy, this time with messy bronze hair and eyes the same green as the emerald scarf he wore open around his neck. Edward Cullen, son of the best and most expensive plastic surgeon on the Eastern Seaboard. He was another junior, and another member of the elite. He was also, as it happened, Jasper Whitlock's best friend.

Unconsciously, my fingers brushed over the vivid stripe of colour I had dyed into my long black hair over the summer. I'd done it on a whim when Seth and I had been bored late one Friday night, and had never bothered to get rid of it. Seth said it suited me.

"Um…"

"You're a junior at Constance, right?" Edward Cullen asked. "I remember you."

"Yeah. Yes. I'm Alice."

He inclined his head. "Edward."

"Yeah, I know." I bit my lip, cursing myself for speaking the moment the words were out of my mouth. Edward didn't seem to mind, though. He just gave me an awkward half-smile.

"You're going to attract a lot of attention this year with your blatant disregard for uniform regulations, Alice," he teased, green eyes sparkling. "I hope you don't really want to be invisible."

"It's not so much a want as an occupational hazard of being the scholarship kid." I shrugged. "I doubt the hair will make much difference."

"You'd be surprised," Edward responded. He looked as though he were about to say something else, but the chime of the bell from inside the school caught his attention. "See you around, Alice." He ducked his head in a nod of farewell and set off up the front steps.

I blinked after him for a moment, too surprised to move. Edward Cullen had just introduced himself to me. Maybe junior year wasn't going to suck as hard as the two years before it after all.

* * *

Junior year, as it turns out, didn't suck as hard as the two years before it; if the first day was anything to go by.

It sucked _harder_.

Maria and her bitchy hierarchy of cronies made my life miserable yet again, with snide comments and pointed whispers and deliberate ostracism. Four of my teachers forgot my name. My geometry teacher called on me when I had the wrong answer. I ate lunch by myself in the quad.

After school let out, I jumped the train back to Brooklyn, got changed out of my uniform and headed to Java Jones. I got there to find Seth, looking harangued, dutifully wiping up tables at the start of his shift. A couple of girls on the nearby sofas were staring at him appreciatively as he worked. Seth is incredibly cute, with his russet skin and his messy dark hair. He spotted me across the crowd and dimpled a grin in my direction. I hurried over.

"Hey," he greeted, shifting the mug-laden tray in his arms and pulling the cloth off his shoulder to wipe the sticky table. The tray wobbled slightly, and I reached out my hands to steady it. He relinquished his grip on it to me as he leant across the table. I studied the back of his head, frowning.

"I didn't think you were working this early," I muttered. He stood to his full height – I'm only tiny, so I found myself craning my head back to see his face – and gently prized the tray away from me.

"I know. I signed up for some overtime." We walked back to the counter together, and Seth deposited the tray before leaning up against the bar. I spotted yet another girl giving him the look, and me the stink eye. She thought we were together. As did most people.

"You work too much," I fretted, pointedly ignoring the daggers being drawn my way.

"Naw," Seth shrugged. "It's cool. I can handle it."

I narrowed my eyes. He was just like my mom. Both of them were constantly biting off more than they could chew. But he looked so damn exhausted that, instead of chiding him, I let out a defeated sigh.

"The blonde behind you is checking you out," I informed him, and his eyebrows shot up.

"Where?"

"Don't be too obvious."

But Seth was _never_ subtle. With a glance to the side, he appraised the girl silently. She caught him looking, and he shot her a wink. She blushed. I rolled my eyes.

"How was school?" He asked me, hooking his foot around a bar stool and dragging it out for me to sit on. When I didn't, he patted the stool impatiently, and I hopped up as he rounded the counter to the employee's side.

"It sucked," I said honestly, propping my pointed chin in my hands. Seth made a sympathetic noise.

"Those rich bitches still giving you a hard time?"

I shrugged noncommittally. Truth be told, I was more ignored than I was picked on. "They're just too snobby to bother speaking to me."

"You say that like it's a bad thing. Honestly, would you want friends like that?"

Probably not. But it would make my life a lot less lonely. I told him as much.

"Think of it this way, Allie," Seth said. "You've got what? Less than two years left to endure. You're halfway there."

I couldn't decide whether that was uplifting or depressing, so I changed the subject. "I saw the news."

"It's on every day," Seth replied with a smirk. I leaned across the counter to thump him on the shoulder.

"I know that, jackass. I meant, I saw _Leah_ on the news."

"Oh," Seth grinned knowingly. "Right. Her 'don't tear down the community center' spotlight piece. She's been harping on about it all week."

"I think she was great," I offered.

"I think she sounded like a pretentious ass."

"It's for a good cause," I defended.

"That still doesn't stop Leah being a pretentious ass. Don't give me that look, Allie, you know she is."

Just then, we were interrupted by a booming voice from the door to the kitchen. "Clearwater?!"

It was Aston, the manager. Seth and I called him Assface behind his back. His tone meant business, though, and Seth was on the clock, so he rolled his eyes and muttered, "I'll be right back."

I watched him vanish into the kitchen, and then cast my gaze around. People-watching was one of my favorite things to do. I would sometimes sit in the park with my sketchbook and draw them, just random passers-by who caught my attention. A red-faced jogger. A harassed mother with three kids. An old man falling asleep on a bench in the afternoon sun. Sometimes, I would make up stories to go along with the drawings – what their lives were like back home, what they did for a living, what they lay awake at night thinking of. I could spend hours doing it.

My eyes landed on a girl sipping a latte and nervously glancing at her watch every five seconds. She was quite pretty. Latina. She reminded me a little of Maria, only without the holier-than-thou sneer permanently attached to her face. My fingers itched to draw her; the tense set of her shoulders, the way she kept chewing her bottom lip. I imagined that she was waiting for someone. A date, maybe. She didn't think he was going to show.

Her eyes went wide in relief when the door opened and a tall, handsome guy sauntered in. He looked Latino, too. I wondered if maybe I'd been wrong, if maybe he was her brother.

He bounded across the packed coffee shop and scooped her up in his arms before planting a loud, enthusiastic kiss on her lips. _Not_ her brother, then.

"Eleazar, you're late," the girl said breathlessly, and he leaned down to give her an Eskimo kiss.

"Got held up at work, Carmensita," he murmured. I turned my eyes away to give them a private moment.

That's when the door opened, and my gaze fell on the last person I had ever expected to walk through the door of a coffee house in Brooklyn.

Edward Cullen.

He was instantly recognizable by his tousled bronze hair, even if he was dressed in an Armani sweater and dark jeans, instead of his St. Jude's uniform. I'd never seen him out of uniform before.

His eyes flashed around the room, scanning for an empty seat. He found one at the table just to the right of where I was sitting. Casually, he strolled across the room. I observed his walk – it was laidback. Carefree. Most of the Constance girls would be clutching their Marc Jacobs purses to their chests in terror if they were in this neighborhood. Edward was… unfazed.

It was odd.

After a moment, he seemed to sense that I was staring at him, because his bright green eyes flickered up to meet mine. There was a question in his expression, like he recognized me, but didn't know how. I thought he'd look away, but after a second, he spoke.

"Alice, right? I almost didn't recognise you out of uniform."

Unsurprisingly, I felt myself flush. "Um, yeah. Hi."

I don't know how it happened, but suddenly he'd kicked out a chair and gestured for me to join him. I took the seat, feeling a bit perplexed. This was like something out of the twilight zone. Guys with bank accounts like his didn't speak to girls like me.

"What brings you to Brooklyn, Alice?" he asked. I groaned inwardly. So he hadn't picked up on my scholarship comment earlier. He didn't know that I lived here.

Well, the conversation had been fun while it lasted. "I live a couple of blocks away."

I expected the mental shutters to come down and the sneer to come out. Instead, he nodded. "Right. You've got a long way to travel to school."

It didn't sound snotty, so I didn't mind responding. "Yeah, I take the subway."

"Me, too," he responded.

Again, I was surprised. "I thought you had a town car?"

He grinned, a little abashed. "I do. I just prefer to be inconspicuous. I hate all that showy shit."

I smiled. Here was Edward Cullen, talking to me like an actual person. "How come you're in Brooklyn?"

His face fell slightly, the sparkle in his green eyes dimming. "My brother goes to rehab around the corner."

Ah. Yeah, I'd heard about that. Emmett Cullen's drug habit. Of course I'd heard – it had been splashed across every paper in New York City. I remembered the gossip that had spread like wildfire around school towards the end of sophomore year. I suddenly felt a pang of sympathy for Edward.

"They sent him to Brooklyn?" I wondered. Edward grimaced.

"My mom thought it would be, y'know, better. Away from all the paparazzi." He shrugged, though I could tell that the idea bothered him. "I was just visiting him."

"Are your parents not here?"

"They're busy." The way he said it, it was as though 'busy' meant 'assholes'. I couldn't say I blamed him. What kind of parents were too busy to go and visit their recovering addict son?

The same kind who would ship him off to the boroughs for causing a scene, probably.

"That sucks," I said honestly.

He smiled. "Yeah, you can say that again."

"So how come you didn't just go home?"

"Full of questions, aren't you?" he teased, but he sounded amused. "I didn't go home because I couldn't really face it. Mom's having her coven of witches over, and I didn't fancy making small talk and listening to her dodging questions about Emmett."

"Do you see your brother a lot?"

"Every couple of days, yeah."

"How is he?"

"Getting better." Edward sighed. "He's ready to be released, in all honesty, but I keep telling him to put it off. The Upper East vultures are still circling, and I don't think he's prepared enough to deal with them yet."

Just for a moment, I considered the possibility that Edward's life sucked more than mine did. I shook off the thought as quickly as it had come. Who was I kidding? The silver spoon in his mouth was infinitely preferable to a life of scrimping and scraping, paparazzi be damned.

"How come you were sitting here by yourself?" he asked, snapping me out of my reverie. I blinked at him for a moment before answering.

"Oh, I'm just hanging out here until my friend Seth finishes work."

"Seth Clearwater?"

"You know him?" I was astonished. Of all the people I expected to be pals with the hoi polloi, Seth was bottom of the list.

"I've seen the New Moon Wolves play a couple of gigs," he explained. "They're a pretty good band, actually."

I grinned. Seth would love that. "I'll tell him you think so."

Just then, the door opened again, and a wave of crisp fall air swept through the stuffy shop. On instinct, my eyes flickered towards the door.

I nearly passed out.

If I'd been shocked to see Edward Cullen walking into Java Jones, that was nothing, nothing, compared to how I felt when none other than Jasper Whitlock strolled in.

One glance at Jasper showed that he had all of his father's imposing presence and his mother's obnoxious beauty. (She had once been a famous Victoria's Secret model). He hovered in the doorway, looking like the portrait of an archangel.

His deep blue eyes scanned the room, until they landed on me. Well, I thought they'd landed on me, but when he raised a hand in greeting, I realized that he was looking at Edward.

Of course he was.

I forced myself not to hyperventilate at the sight of him walking over to us. I mean, I was the girl who had gone door to door collecting to raise money for my downstairs neighbor Riley, so that he could be included in a clinical trial to help his brain tumor. I was the girl who had saved up her lunch money every day in ninth grade so that she could buy her sister the flat iron she wanted for Christmas. I was the girl who went to gallery openings to appreciate the art, not the free champagne. I was the girl who volunteered at the free clinic on the weekends.

Yet, somehow, my personality and my senses evaporated at the mere sight of Jasper. I became exactly like every other dumb girl at Constance – a puddle of useless goo.

Jasper stopped at our table, his eyes sliding from Edward to me – briefly – and back again. He didn't ask what I was doing there. He didn't ask who I was, even. Instead, he drew back a chair and flopped into it, before leaning to his best friend and lowering his voice.

"How's Em doing?"

Edward shrugged. "He's getting there."

"Your mom going to let him come home any time soon?"

"I doubt it."

Jasper nodded sympathetically, and sat back in his chair. He didn't even so much as glance in my direction. It was as though I was another piece of the furniture.

Now, I could have been one of those girls who just sat there, sycophantically staring at Jasper with goo-goo eyes, willing him to notice that I was even alive. A shameful part of me wanted to be. Another, louder and more insistent part, wanted to be mad at his complete rudeness.

I didn't know what would be better – shrugging it off in dignified silence or giving him a piece of my mind. Thankfully, I was spared from the decision, as Edward gestured towards me with one empty hand.

"Jasper, this is Alice."

His blue-eyed gaze slid over to me, and locked. The cobalt in his eyes sparked with a glimmer of recognition, and what I thought – or maybe, hoped – was interest. "Constance-Billard's answer to Frida Kahlo," he said.

I didn't know whether to take that as a compliment on my art or an insult on my looks. A couple of my paintings had been featured in our school magazines. One was even hanging in Headmistress Dwyer's office. She liked me. Always said her daughter Isabella and I would get along. Not that that helps me in any way. She didn't go to Constance – she lived with her dad in the Hamptons.

I stopped my tangential thoughts when it became clear that Jasper was waiting for some kind of response from me. I was a bit embarrassed by what actually came out of my mouth. "Did you take the train here?"

Jasper looked at me like I'd just spoken to him in Elvish. "No… I took my town car."

Naturally. Because that's how easy his life was. And when he got home, he could just send for the maid to bring him a sandwich. Or caviar on toast, or whatever it was that filthy rich people ate.

"Your carbon footprint must be enormous. Unless you car pool." I was kidding, but Jasper looked completely bewildered.

"Car pool?" I wondered if the concept could have possibly made less sense to him. Maybe I had actually spoken in Elvish. Or Klingon.

Edward seemed to find my question amusing. "Jazz, I think she was joking."

Jasper frowned. He looked confused. I wondered, idly, if girls were ever sarcastic to him. I wondered if they ever did anything except drool on his fancy shoes.

"Um, alright." He turned to Edward. "Are we gonna go and eat? I'm starving."

"Sure, there's this great vendor down the road that does amazing tacos."

"Street food?" Jasper wrinkled his nose. I was abruptly overcome with the urge to punch him in his superior face. Instead, I balled up my fists at my sides and mentally counted to ten.

"Or not," Edward saw his expression. "We could always go to the Imperial."

"Now you're talking," Jasper replied enthusiastically. "I really want steak."

"Out of curiosity," I interjected. "What's wrong with street food, exactly?"

Jasper and Edward both turned to look at me. Edward's expression held guarded amusement, Jasper's held incredulity.

"It's unsanitary," Jasper said slowly. "You have no idea where those guys' hands have been."

"I'm sure they keep their hands cleaner than you do," I shot back. "And the food is delicious."

"I doubt it. It's being sold from a cart. It's hardly quality."

"And your sixty dollar steak will be?"

Jasper's eyebrows rose. "You're paying for the quality."

"Or you're paying for the pretention. Which, let's face it, is much more likely. That's why snooty restaurants can get away with charging astronomical prices for tiny portions of food that aren't even that well-flavoured. Because misguided people with more money than sense pay for it."

His eyebrows rose even higher. "Are you calling me an idiot?"

I spread my palms wide. "Hey, if that's the lesson you want to take from my little speech, I won't stop you."

Jasper glanced at Edward, who appeared to be trying not to laugh, and then back at me. "Nobody ever speaks to me like that."

"Yeah, I'm guessing the help are paid not to backchat their employers." I drew in a breath. I had no idea where this resentment and anger had come from, but I wasn't about to slow my tirade. "But I'm under no such obligation."

"'The help'?" Jasper's frown deepened. "Stereotyping, much?"

I shrugged. "Not really."

He lapsed into shocked silence for a few seconds, eyes roaming over my face as though he had been tasked with memorizing it. I was pretty sure that it was the first time he had ever really looked at me. It was an appraisal, but his expression gave nothing away. "So, what's the pink supposed to symbolize? Blowing off all the Constance trends? Alice Brandon; too cool for school?"

"Not really," I replied. "I'm just not really into that whole preppy thing."

Except on Jasper. But then, that boy would look good wearing a trash bag. He tilted his head, brushing a stubborn curl out of his eyes. "So, what are you into? Angry punk-rock and guys with multiple facial piercings?"

My eyebrows shot skywards. "Now who's stereotyping?"

Jasper's lips twitched slightly at the corners. "You're kind of bringing it on yourself. Do you actually enjoy wearing that neon 'I'm not one of you' sign around your neck at school?"

My gaze hardened. "You know, I don't. Would you believe that it gets kind of heavy after a while? You can't imagine the neck cramp."

He actually laughed. It was quiet – just a soft, low chuckle – but it sent a thrill right through me. "You're a strange sort of girl, Alice Brandon."

It was only then that I registered what he had called me. Alice _Brandon._ He'd said it twice Whitlock knew my last name. I hadn't told him. Edward hadn't told him.

Hell, I didn't think Edward even _knew_ it. I hadn't used it when I introduced myself to him this morning.

"Weren't you supposed to be going out for dinner with Maria?" Edward said suddenly, snapping me out of my sudden Jasper-induced daze. Jasper shrugged noncommittally.

"I bailed. She's driving me mad. All of that 'school spirit for Ivy Week' crap is really going to her head. She's in charge of the events committee."

Of course she was. She was Maria de Lucia. She got everything. Committee titles, class presidency, a group of bitchy minions to bend to her every whim. It wasn't unexpected, really. Daughter of a top fashion designer. Girlfriend of the best looking guy in the known universe. It didn't matter that she was a hateful bitch.

Sigh.

"I don't understand why you put up with her," Edward said, curiously voicing my thoughts. "She's a nightmare."

Jasper shrugged again, but there was something in that shrug that made me think he wasn't just being vague. There was some sort of story there, and not a happy one. It was like there was something he wanted to say, but wouldn't.

I puzzled over that one for a moment.

It was then that Seth came out of the kitchen again, with a fresh tray of clean cutlery. He looked around for me, confused, but his face brightened when he spotted where I was sitting.

"Allie!" he exclaimed when he was level with the table. "You would not believe what Assface just said to…" He trailed off, seeming to clock for the first time that I wasn't alone. His eyes flickered from Edward to Jasper and back again, and he broke into a warm grin.

"You're that guy who introduced Jake to Tanya Denali, aren't you?" he said to Edward. Edward nodded in affirmation. My eyebrows rose. At least that explained why Tanya Denali, Manhattan's best known club promoter, had known about Seth's band. I'd thought she'd seemed kind of big league to have been trawling underground bars in Brooklyn for talent.

Edward Cullen had connections, and apparently wasn't afraid to use them. I was startled to realize that I might actually like the guy.

"Wow," Seth was saying. "Thanks, man."

The two of them began an animated conversation, and as I watched them interact, I noticed that Edward looked entirely comfortable. He knew my side of town a lot better than he let on at school.

It took me a second to twig that, as I was studying Edward, Jasper was studying me. He seemed to notice me noticing, and hastily dropped his gaze.

Seth asked Jasper a question, which pulled him out of his quiet reverie. He answered cordially, and the tension in his posture that I hadn't even been aware he was carrying loosened. I listened to the conversation, intrigued. It seemed that Jasper played guitar as well. Hearing him talk to Seth confused me. I'd thought Jasper was uncomfortable being in Brooklyn, but maybe it had been something else that had made him seem so closed-off and haughty.

Maybe it was me.

I shook off that thought. He didn't care enough about me one way or the other to act differently around me. Did he?

Edward and Jasper left shortly after that, Edward promising to catch up with me in school. Like we were friends. It was very odd. Jasper made no such promise. He shook Seth's hand and clapped him on the shoulder. Me? I barely got a nod and a mumbled 'bye'. I was starting to take it personally.

Seth and I had walked home together, at a pace somewhere close to a crawl.

"I thought you said you had no friends at school?" he accused teasingly.

"I didn't. Edward and I just started talking today."

"He's a good guy."

"Yeah," I agreed, "I think he might just be."

"Did you do something to offend Jasper?" Sometimes I forgot how astute he could be. Of course he picked up on the weird vibe. Nothing got past Seth Clearwater. Although he would never have admitted it, I thought he had a promising future following in his sister's journalistic footsteps.

"No," I replied. "I don't know what his problem was."

"He seemed like an okay sort of dude," Seth said reasonably. "But he was kind of… distant with you."

I thought of Maria, and the way her posse went out of their way to make my life a living hell. The others ignored me, but Maria… not so much.

"His girlfriend hates me," I concluded. "Maybe that's it."

"Men don't hate chicks because their girlfriend does," Seth scoffed. "That's ridiculous and bitchy."

We spoke no more about it as he deposited me at my front door and wished me goodnight. I watched him disappear down the sidewalk, hands stuffed in his pockets and whistling away.

When I got upstairs, Cynthia was in, but Mom was gone. Probably out working. Cyn was playing some drum and bass shit in her room, and I could feel the vibrations through the wall as I collapsed on my bed and flipped open my laptop. I checked Facebook, and stilled.

 _Edward Cullen has sent you a friend request: accept/ignore_.

Grinning, I clicked 'accept' and surfed through his pictures. I was just being nosy, but my hand halted over the mouse when a picture of Jasper and Maria flared up on screen. Maria had her arms draped around his shoulders, and was grinning, and there, in the background, was Jasper's CEO father. He was watching them expectantly, and Jasper… well, his smile looked very wooden. There was no light behind his dark blue eyes.

I was an artist. I knew people. I studied people. I understood body language the way I understood color and shade and texture. Jasper's body language was screaming 'I don't really want to be here'.

My brow furrowed. I couldn't put my finger on it, but something was off about Jasper Whitlock. Maybe the golden boy didn't have such a gilded life after all…

Just then, my chat box pinged. I opened the message, and found, with some surprise, that it was from Edward. It was only two lines, but it made me smile.

 _Thanks for letting me offload on you today, Alice. I think you might be the only person who hasn't looked at me like I'm a freak when I bring up Emmett._

I typed him a quick response.

 _Don't worry, Edward. Everyone looks at me like I'm a freak all the time. I get where you're coming from._

The answer came through instantly.

 _Well, then, I guess us freaks have to stick together._

I signed off, feeling lighter than I had in months.

I actually had a friend who goes to my school. Maybe. I wondered whether tomorrow might not be as heinous as every other day at Constance.

I hoped so.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter Two**_

"You look weird," was Cynthia's greeting to me when I emerged from my room the next morning, fully dressed before breakfast for a change. I rolled my eyes as I passed her sprawled out on the sofa, and headed to the kitchen area of our open plan loft in search of cereal.

"Weird how?"

"Not as depressed as you usually do."

I extracted a carton of milk from the fridge and hip-bumped the door shut. "Gee, thanks, Cynthia."

"What? It was a compliment."

"You need to look up 'compliment' in the dictionary. I don't think you know what it means."

"Girls," Mom said mildly. I hadn't even noticed her sitting by the window seat. She wore paint-spattered jeans and her hair pulled up in a messy bun with a pencil through it. Her sketchbook was propped open on her lap. "Must you fight this early in the morning?"

"I was being nice!" Cynthia huffed, pushing herself off the sofa and storming towards her bedroom. "Honestly, why do I even bother?" The sound of her door slamming echoed through the loft.

Mom raised one eyebrow at me. "She's a ray of sunshine these days, huh?"

Removing the cereal box from the cupboard, I poured myself a bowl and crossed the apartment to join her. I settled into the overstuffed armchair closest to the window seat and began to munch my breakfast. "Please tell me I was never like that when I was thirteen."

"No," Mom replied. "You were sulky, not bitchy." The smile she gave me took the sting out of her words.

"I wasn't that bad." I jerked my head in the direction of Cynthia's door.

"True," Mom admitted. "But cut her some slack, Alice. After all, when you were her age, your dad was still around to help out. She misses him."

I made an ugly noise in the back of my throat. "I don't see why. After what he did, never would be too soon to see that bastard again."

"Oh, honey," Mom replied softly. Her expression dripped sympathy. I didn't need it.

"You feel the same way."

"I don't," she said. "I wish that you didn't feel that way, either."

"He's not coming back, Mom. It's alright to hate him."

Mom got up from her seat and leaned over the back of my chair to hug me. "If you need to hate him, sweetie, I won't stop you. But just remember that he's still your dad."

"You're too forgiving," I grumbled. She really was. My mother was the nicest, most considerate and beautiful woman I knew. She had more talent and charm in her littlest finger than my father had in his whole body, and somehow she was the one who got screwed over. Yet more anecdotal proof that, if there was a God, he had a sick sense of humor. "But you know that you're worth so much more than him, right?"

Mom planted a kiss on the top of my head. "I love you, Allie."

"Love you, too."

We stayed like that for a few minutes, Mom's arms around my shoulders, and I ate my cereal in silence. I hated bringing my father up in conversation these days. The memories of all of us as a happy family were still fresh in my mind, but the past had been cheapened by his actions in the present.

I gently disentangled myself from my mother's embrace once my breakfast was finished, and resolved not to think of the missing half of my parenting duo for the rest of the day.

* * *

When I got to school, it was to find Maria and her coven of witches hanging around by the front steps eating fro-yo. Nettie Harrison and Lucy Cartwright-Myers, her second- and third-in-command respectively, flanked her like ladies-in-waiting. They were equally as horrifying as their fearsome leader. Lucy's icy gaze landed on me when I was halfway up the steps, and she turned to whisper something to Maria.

Maria laughed, glancing my way to confirm my suspicions that, as usual, I was the butt of their joke. I gritted my teeth and tried my best to act as though I couldn't see them. As I passed, however, I heard Nettie whisper "Bargain-bucket Brandon."

 _Eyes front, Alice_ , I reminded myself. _Do not let them get to you_.

Maybe if I repeated that mantra to myself often enough, it would work. Although, it had been two years of this shit and it still bothered me, so I wasn't holding my breath.

"Hey, Alice!" a bright, masculine voice called from behind me just as I was about to enter the Constance main hall. I paused, swivelling on one foot, to find Edward Cullen jogging up the main steps towards me. Maria and her cronies watched his approach with unflattering disbelief.

"Edward," I greeted. "How are you?"

"I'm good." He looked better than he had last night. Gone were the dark shadows from under his eyes, and the resentful downward twist of his mouth had been replaced with the sort of smile that would make most girls go weak at the knees. He stopped at my side. "Thanks, again, for yesterday."

"It's honestly no trouble."

"Do you have lunch plans?"

I considered. Normally, I ate lunch alone on one of the benches in the quad. I felt ready to break the habit. "Nothing really."

"You want to grab something at the patisserie on the corner with me?"

I blinked, stunned. An actual invitation from a rich kid to hang out? There was only one problem with his offer. "I, uh, would love to, but… well, that place is a little out of my price range."

Edward waved one hand dismissively. "Don't be ridiculous. My treat."

I raised both eyebrows. "Really?"

He grinned. "It's not like I can't afford it."

"Good point." I felt myself smile - surely a first for me during school hours. "Alright, then you have yourself a deal."

"Great!" He adjusted his bag on his shoulder and headed off to the right, in the direction of the boys' hall. Halfway there, he paused and called back to me over his shoulder. "Meet you out here after the bell?"

"Sure."

I watched him go, feeling slightly dazed. When he vanished through the door, I turned… and found myself face to face with Maria.

"Alice," she said. "Do my eyes deceive me, or was that Edward I saw you speaking to?"

"Nope, your eyes work fine." I attempted to move past her, but she sidestepped with me.

"Since when are you two friends?"

"Since when has that been your business?"

Maria pursed her perfectly glossed lips at me. "There's no need to be rude, I was only asking."

One thing I've noticed about mean girls; bitchiness is an art form, and true artists can cut you down in so many ways whilst from the outside making you look as though you're the one in the wrong.

Maria was a connoisseur of cruelty.

"So, like, are you dating him?" she continued. "Because I swear I just heard him ask you to lunch."

"It's not a date," I said automatically, and then paused. I hadn't even considered that as a possibility until she said it. Was Edward asking me on a date? Surely not. He could've had his pick of any of the girls at Constance, so why would he have chosen me?

The look on Maria's face plainly told me that she was thinking the same thing.

"I'm sure you're right." She smiled sweetly. "It's so nice to see him reaching out to you. Edward's a nice guy that way. He always has time for the less fortunate." Her sweet smile sharpened at the edges. "Have a great time at lunch."

She snapped her fingers, and her cronies jumped to attention. The two blond sycophants followed her as she marched through the double doors that led to the girls' hall, babbling under their breaths about the latest development in the unending drama that was our high school.

I waited five minutes to make sure that they were gone. Then, with a mournful sigh, I headed in the same direction.

* * *

True to his word, Edward was waiting for me at the front steps as soon as classes let out for lunch. He beamed at me as I approached, and I couldn't help but notice how handsome he looked. Not many guys could pull off a mustard yellow shirt, but Edward was one of them. It made his eyes look inhumanly green, and brought out the autumnal shades in his bronze hair.

"You survived fourth period, then?" he said by way of greeting.

"Just barely."

"What did you have?"

"Latin."

He winced. "Ouch. Mrs Grady is a slave driver."

"That's an insult to slave drivers," I replied, and he laughed. We attracted some curious stares as we made our way out of the school gates, but Edward acted as though he didn't notice, keeping the conversation flowing.

I tried to do the same, but the gawking became too distracting. "Everyone's staring at us."

"So?" he asked. "Let them. If their lives are so uninteresting that they have nothing better to do than stand around gaping at us, who are we to deprive them of what little thrills they can actually have?"

I grinned. "I've never thought about it that way before."

We turned left out of the school gates, heading for the patisserie. A few of the older students were milling around on the sidewalk, some chatting to each other, some with their eyes glued to the screens of their cell phones.

"You kind of have to think about it that way when you grow up with the paparazzi waving cameras in your face."

"They do that?" I tilted my head up to squint at him. Quite a way up. Standing this close to him, I realised how tall Edward was for the first time. He must've had over a foot on me. Then again, that wasn't hard.

"Every time they want a picture to go with their article about the scandalous lives of Manhattan's elite."

"That's fucked up."

"My entire existence is fucked up, but there you have it." Edward shrugged.

I stared at him curiously. "If you don't mind me asking… why?"

We reached the patisserie. Edward held the door open like an old-school gentleman, gesturing for me to go through first. Stepping inside, I inhaled the delicious smell of freshly baked pastry. The door swung shut behind us, and Edward led me over to a small round table in the back corner. We sat down opposite each other.

"Why what?" he asked.

It took me a moment to remember what I had asked. "Why is your entire existence fucked up?"

He gave me a sheepish smile. "You really want to know my drama?"

"It would be a nice distraction from my own," I admitted. "But you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"I want to," he said. "You're really easy to talk to for a girl I've known for less than twenty-four hours."

I chuckled at that. "Thanks."

"Okay, so my sad story is that I'm adopted. Only it's not really sad, obviously, because I ended up here." He gestured vaguely to our surroundings. "My mom couldn't get pregnant, so my parents decided to adopt Emmett. He was six days old when they got him. They adopted me four years later, when I was nearly two."

"Wow, I had no idea." I honestly hadn't. The Cullens didn't broadcast that information. At least, not in any tabloid articles about them that I had read – and I had to admit that I'd read quite a few. "That must've been hard for your mom."

Edward made a face. "Not really. I've kind of always got the impression that she didn't really want kids. It was my dad that wanted a family, and it was him that went through all the paperwork and interviews and stuff. My mom just went along with it, provided that she didn't miss her daily brunches with the girls or her spa weekends."

"Oh," I said, because I really wasn't sure what else to say.

"She's… well, she's not the most attentive parent in the world," Edward admitted. "We're not exactly close."

"That must suck." I couldn't imagine a world where I wasn't close with my mom. She was practically my best friend; the first person I called when I was sad, or scared, if I had great news or if I needed advice.

"It's not so bad," he shrugged. "I get on really well with my dad, and I know that my mom does care about me in her own way. It could be worse, I mean, if I was Jas-" He cut himself off abruptly, but my ears perked up. I was certain that he had been about to mention Jasper. Curiosity was an itch beneath my skin, but I fought the urge to ask.

It wasn't any of my business.

"Anyway," Edward recovered himself. "My parents tried to keep our lives really private when we were growing up. My mom was always off hosting some benefit or another, though, so we ended up with our faces in the society pages. It didn't get really bad until Emmett started partying a bit too hard. My mom was furious about all the bad publicity he was attracting when he got fucked up and the cameras caught him. She didn't seem all that concerned about his behaviour other than what it meant for her, but… when Emmett got really bad, my dad stepped in and made sure he got the help he needed. I didn't realise until after Emmett went to Ostroff that my mom had been hiding most of the shit from him."

"That's awful," I murmured, and it was. It was nothing like my family drama, but it seemed just as traumatic. I guess it was true what Tolstoy said – each unhappy family really was unhappy in their own way.

"Yeah. All of this is just my roundabout way of saying that the paparazzi go a bit crazy when the son of a famous surgeon and a renowned socialite gets sent to rehab. I got used to people staring."

"Nobody should have to get used to that."

"There are perks to this life, too," Edward replied.

I smiled. "Sure, the town car, the summer house in the Hamptons, the piles and piles of money."

"Money doesn't buy you happiness, but I'd rather be miserable in a penthouse on the Upper East Side than in the projects."

"Wouldn't we all," I said dryly.

Our conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the waiter. Edward ordered a croissant and a coffee, and after a moment's hesitation, I followed suit. The waiter nodded and disappeared.

"What about you?" Edward asked, inclining himself towards me across the table. "What's your story, Alice Brandon?"

"It's nowhere near as exciting as yours," I warned.

"Let me be the judge."

"Okay… well, I'm from Brooklyn, born and raised. My mom runs an art gallery in SoHo, but she's also an artist herself. I have a loft apartment in Williamsburg, and a bitchy thirteen year old sister called Cynthia."

"What about your dad?" Edward asked, and I blanched.

"He's not important."

"Oh." Mercifully, he changed the subject. "And what do you do in your spare time?"

"I mostly hang around at Java Jones with Seth."

"Is he your boyfriend?"

"Who, Seth? God, no!"

Edward laughed. "Why, what's wrong with him? He seems like a nice enough guy."

"I've known him since he was in diapers. I could never date a guy who I once witnessed eating dirt on a dare."

"Fair enough."

"What about you? You've got to have a girl that you're interested in."

Adorably, he blushed. "Well, yeah. I mean, there was this girl that I met this summer. I really liked her, but I don't think she was into me that way, so I left it alone."

I narrowed my eyes at him accusingly. "You mean you pussied out of telling her how you felt?"

"No," he mumbled, blushing furiously. "I just didn't want to bug her…"

"Chicken," I teased. Edward met my gaze, green eyes sparkling with embarrassed humor.

"You're mean."

"And you're a chicken." I propped my chin in my hand as I studied him. "You should've gone for it. There's nothing sadder than watching a guy mooning after a girl when you can tell that they're never going to pluck up the courage to make a move."

"Really?" A smirk was slowly spreading across Edward's face. " _Nothing_ sadder? Not even, and I'm just spitballing here, a girl who hopelessly pines over a guy who is completely unavailable?"

"Feel free to arrive at some kind of point, here."

He grinned. "You. Jasper."

My eyes widened so far that they almost popped out of my head. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, come on!" he laughed. "Don't even try to pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about. Last night, in the coffee house, you were practically drooling all over him, and then I saw the way your face lit up when I mentioned his name earlier." He raised both copper eyebrows at me. "Give me a little credit."

"You get way more than a little credit," I muttered, and he beamed. "Wait… is it that obvious?"

"That you've got a crush on my best friend? Nah, you hide it well. I'm just really good at reading people."

"That, or you're telepathic."

Edward smirked. "You'll never know for sure."

The waiter came back with our coffees and food, and we chatted amicably as we ate. As it turned out, I found Edward as easy to talk to as he did me. We laughed for the entire lunch period, and by the time we got back to school and bid each other farewell at the front steps, I felt lighter than I had in my entire two years at Constance.

* * *

For the next two weeks, I had a standing lunch date with Edward Cullen. We talked about anything and everything, from sports, to movies, to art. Then, when I got home from school, we would sit on social media and talk more – about his brother, about whatever dumb TV shows were on, about the people we knew at Constance and St Jude's.

Neither of us brought up my feelings towards Jasper again. During the two weeks of school that I had been friends with Edward, I had been given brief introductions to most of his friends. I'd been present in the same conversation as Jasper five times, and in each conversation, he didn't once speak to me directly.

Well, that wasn't strictly true. He said hello and goodbye. We were hardly on the fast track to being besties.

Edward and I, however, were. On the second Saturday of us being friends, we caught a movie together after he went to visit his brother at the Ostroff center. My mom even asked if he was my new boyfriend. I was quick to set her straight. Edward and I got on like a house on fire, but it was strictly platonic between us.

I think he felt the same way.

It was on the Sunday that things got weird. I was at my mom's gallery, helping her set up for a new exhibit, when my phone buzzed with a text from Edward.

 _Where you at?_

I texted back immediately. _My mom's gallery._

The next message came through in less than a minute. _I think I can see you._

I glanced up in surprise, looking around wildly. My gaze landed on the glass front of the gallery, and sure enough, there stood Edward on the sidewalk, waving at me like a lunatic. He wasn't alone. My heart leapt into my throat when I caught a glimpse of blond hair, but on closer inspection I realised that the man at Edward's side was too old to be Jasper.

Edward mimed unlocking the front door, and I hurried over to do exactly that.

"Hey," I greeted, stepping back to allow him entry. "What are you doing in this part of town?"

"We were at the Angelika," he replied with a roll of his eyes. "Dad insisted on me coming to see some weird movie with him."

"And you enjoyed it," the man behind Edward said, stepping through into the gallery. It was the first time I'd ever gotten a look at Edward's dad in the flesh, and I had to say, he was a sight to behold. No older than forty, he looked like an old-time movie star himself, from the perfectly coiffed blond locks to the perfectly straight, perfectly white smile that set off his tan.

"Yeah, well, it was alright," Edward admitted.

"My son seems to have forgotten his manners," Dr Cullen said, extending a hand towards me. "You must be his new friend Alice whom he won't stop talking about. I'm Carlisle Cullen."

"Nice to meet you." I placed my hand in his, and we shook.

"Allie, who are you talking to?" my mom called, coming round the corner with a large cardboard box in her arms. She glanced over at the door – and froze. Her mouth dropped open. " _Carlisle Cullen_?"

My head whipped round in time to clock the identically stunned expression on Dr Cullen's face as he regarded my mother with wide, silver-blue eyes. "Esme Platt, is that you?"

It didn't escape my notice that he referred to my mom by her maiden name. Mom dropped the box, looking more flustered than I'd seen her in a long time. "I, um, gosh, I wasn't expecting… I didn't think that… it's been so long."

"It really has," Dr Cullen said, almost wonderingly. "How have you been?"

Edward and I could only watch as the bizarre scene unfolded. We alternated our gazes between our parents like we were watching a ping pong match as they exchanged pleasantries, before Edward finally cleared his throat.

Both adults turned to look at him. "Dad?"

"Mom?" I echoed his sentiment. "You guys know each other?"

"Oh, well, yes, from a long time ago." Mom's cheeks were pink.

"My intern year," Dr Cullen added. "Esme spent a month in the hospital where I was working."

"It was when I broke my leg in high school," Mom offered. "And Carlisle was my doctor."

They shared a reminiscent smile for a moment. Edward and I shared a 'WTF' look. Dr Cullen glanced at me, and then back to my mother. "You're Alice's mom?"

"Yeah." My mom had fallen pregnant with me and married my dad right out of high school, only about a year after her hockey injury. My existence was a cautionary tale to use protection on prom night. Not that my mom regretted having me, but I knew that she had missed out on a lot of great opportunities thanks to being a teenage mother. It seemed beyond weird that she had known Edward's dad way back when.

"How strange," Dr Cullen echoed my thoughts. "It's such a small world. I had no idea our children went to the same school."

"Neither did I," Mom murmured. She stared at him for a moment, entranced, before seemingly coming to her senses. She snapped out of her walk down memory lane looking embarrassed, and suddenly was all business. "Would either of you like a cup of coffee?"

"That would be great," Dr Cullen said. "I'll give you a hand, if you'd like?"

They disappeared around the corner and into the back office kitchen. I could hear the pair of them chatting for a minute before the door swung closed.

Neither of them stopped to check if Edward or I actually wanted a drink.

"Well, that…" Edward paused. "That was really fucking weird."

"Our parents are old friends," I mused, fighting a smile. "Who knew?"

Although, judging from my mom's reaction, Dr Carlisle Cullen was more like a first crush than an old friend. The thought made my brain hurt.

"Want to show me the art?" Edward asked, changing the subject from our parents.

"If you want," I replied. "Do you like art?"

"Confession time – I know absolutely nothing about it, so you'll have to explain it all. But I promise, I'll look really interested and go 'hmm' when you tell me facts."

I grinned, settling into our now familiar rapport effortlessly. "I'll hold you to that. I'm expecting some enthusiastic nodding, too."

"Haven't you heard? I excel at enthusiastic nodding. I think I won a prize for it in middle school."

"Oh, well, we're sorted then."

Together, we set off around the gallery. An hour later, our parents returned, laughing and joking like best friends.

They never did end up making either of us a drink.

* * *

 _A/N: There was no Jasper in this chapter, really, but don't worry, he will be back in the next one with a vengeance. We'll also meet another very important character in the next chapter! (P.S. - hopefully now it's clear why I scrapped Alice's dad as a character in favor of Alice's mom. Ah, side-plots)._


	3. Chapter 3

_**Chapter Three**_

* * *

Three weeks into the semester, the gossip train really left the station. The explanation for this arrived on a Tuesday morning in the middle of my English Literature class. I was busy writing notes, so at first I didn't even notice when the door to the classroom opened. It was only when a sudden hush descended that I bothered to glance up.

The girl standing in the doorway looked exactly as I remembered. Tall, blonde and statuesque, she managed to look effortlessly perfect even in the Constance uniform. With her head held high and her violet eyes firmly fixed on the teacher's desk, she walked to the front of the class and softly cleared her throat.

Mr Carson glanced up from the papers he was marking to look for the source of the interruption. His eyes widened when he took in the newcomer, and as she bent down to talk to him, the whispers started to spread across the classroom like ripples on a pond.

"Rosalie…"

"Rosalie _Hale_ …"

"I heard she went to rehab."

"I heard she was in juvie."

"Nah, that's not right, it was a boarding school, and she got expelled…"

"I thought she wigged out and got sent to the psych ward?"

"My mom's friend told me that she got knocked up and her parents sent her away until she had the kid."

"Do you think we should ask?"

"Do you think…?"

Each of the questions were voiced in carrying whispers, and I immediately glanced to Rosalie at the front of the class to see what her reaction would be. To her credit, she carried on as though she couldn't even hear them. She swivelled in her Louboutins and marched to the back of the class. The only vacant desk was the one behind me. She slid into it and began to pull books out of her bag, setting them noiselessly down on the smooth surface. I resisted the urge to turn in my chair to study her as the rest of the class were doing.

Instead, I bent my head forward to get on with my work. As the lesson progressed, the whispers continued, growing steadily more outlandish by the minute. If I had been Rosalie, I would have been dying inside. A pang of sympathy shot through me.

At the end of the class, I stayed behind, taking my time packing up whilst everyone else rushed for the door. Well, everyone but one other student. Rosalie remained seated at her desk, eyes fixed on her clasped hands. I hesitated for a moment, but then took a deep breath and spoke.

"Are you okay?"

She met my gaze. Up close, her unusual eyes were even more striking than they seemed from a distance. She had been gone for sophomore year, but in freshman year Rosalie had been Constance's it-girl. Everyone loved her. Most of them wanted to _be_ her. It had been easy to see why; she was beautiful, and brilliant, and charming.

Opinions seemed to have changed for the year she had been missing.

Rosalie laughed without humor. "If I can make it through the day, I'll be fine." Her voice was exactly as I remembered it, too. Clear and commanding, yet still somehow friendly. Everything about her captivated people's attention.

"That seemed… rough."

"First day back. I wasn't expecting anything less." She shrugged, and her golden curls shimmered as the light caught them. "You're Alice, right?"

I blinked, shocked that she had remembered my name. Very few people bothered. Then again, Rosalie had been best friends with Maria when she was last at Constance, and I'd been Maria's number one victim since the first day of freshman year. "Yeah, that's me."

Rosalie made a sweeping gesture down the right side of her head. "I like what you've done with your hair."

"Oh, the pink?" I tugged on the end of the bright streak. "Drunken whim."

She smiled her radiant smile. "It really suits you."

I smiled back. Rosalie and I had never really spoken during freshman year, and I found myself wondering why that was. Had she always been so nice? Or was it more likely that being churned through the rumor mill had softened her previously hard edges? "What class do you have next?"

"Study hall," Rosalie answered immediately. "What about you?"

"Same."

"Want to walk together?" she asked. I hesitated, confused by the friendliness of the invitation, but she seemed to take my silence as a refusal. Her face fell. "We don't have to. I know that all the staring and gossiping is a bit much. I understand if…"

"I'd love to," I cut across her. Relief shone in her purplish-blue eyes.

We finished up gathering our belongings and headed in the direction of the library. There were several double-takes as we passed small groups of Constance students. Rosalie, if possible, attracted more attention than Edward. She also seemed less comfortable with the negative attention.

"You know," I said to distract her. "You're the first person to ever ask me to walk with them to class."

Her eyes widened. "Really?"

"Yeah. Everyone just ignores me." I'd hoped to make her feel better, but her frown deepened at my words.

"I wish they'd all just ignore me."

"It'll die down, but in the meantime, let them look. If their lives are that uninteresting that they need to gawp at you, then they aren't worth your time."

Rosalie smiled. "You sound like my cousin."

I was surprised. All I had been doing was paraphrasing the same advice that Edward had given me. I didn't realise it was commonly spouted among the rich. Unless… "Who's your cousin?"

"Oh. Do you know Jasper Whitlock? He's in our year at St Jude's…"

Did I ever. My heart skipped a beat at the mention of his name, though I hated myself for it. I really was pathetic. "I didn't realise you guys were related."

Looking at Rosalie now, it made sense. They were both tall, blond and devastatingly gorgeous. In fact, I could see a vague resemblance in the shapes of their mouths and the curve of their cheekbones.

"Yeah, his mom is my dad's sister."

"Oh, cool."

"Are you friends with him?" Rosalie asked. "I feel like I know nothing about this place after being away for a year."

"Not exactly," I hedged. Edward had seen through my pretences, but I was determined not to betray my secret crush to anyone else. "But I'm friends with Edward."

Rosalie seemed caught between the desire to grin and the desire to roll her eyes. After a moment's consideration, she did both. "I've missed that boy. Kind of."

"You guys are friends?"

"Well, he's Jasper's best friend, but yeah, we hang out." Her brow furrowed. "Or, we used to. I'm not really sure who my friends are around here anymore."

We had reached the library by this point, and Rosalie steered us towards one of the small, empty booths cut into the wall. She dumped her bag on one side of the table and slid onto the bench. I sat down opposite her.

"I can be your friend," I said. "If you want?"

Rosalie smiled. "I'd like that."

* * *

We worked in silence for the rest of the study period, and then, when the bell rang, Rosalie walked with me to the front steps. I had just assumed that I would be meeting Edward for lunch today, but I hadn't prepared myself for the possibility that he wouldn't be alone.

Edward was in his usual spot at the top of the steps, but there was another tall figure beside him, facing away towards the main gate. I could only see the back of his expensive black coat, but it was enough. Leaning against the railing looking like some long-forgotten deity of male beauty, was Jasper.

"There you are, Alice! So, the rumors are true," Edward declared, upon catching sight of Rosalie and me as we emerged from the girls' hall. "Rosalie Hale is back in town."

She smiled, holding out her arms. Edward stepped into her embrace without hesitation, seizing her around the waist and lifting her off her feet in a bear hug. Jasper turned to watch their reunion, and caught my eye. He gave me a small smile.

"Hi, Alice," he said.

"Hello, Jasper," I managed to reply. "How are you?"

His smile brightened, but it looked inexplicably forced. "I'm good. You?"

"Also good."

Jasper's cobalt gaze slid to Rosalie, and concern flitted across his expression. "How bad was it?"

Having been released by Edward, Rosalie turned to her cousin with a shrug. "It could've been worse."

"In what way?"

"I could've been shot through the heart." She laughed in an attempt to cover the genuine hurt behind her bravado, but one glance at Jasper's narrowed gaze told me that he saw right through her.

"Rosie."

"Jazz, I'm fine. Don't worry."

He bit the inside of his cheek, considering her. "Have you seen Maria yet? She told me that she would look out for you today."

The smile Rosalie gave him was more of a grimace. "Oh, yeah, I saw her. She blew right past me in the corridor earlier without a word."

Edward's eyebrows rose, but the meaningful glance he shared with me told me that he wasn't surprised by her behaviour. Truthfully, I wasn't either.

Jasper was. Well, maybe not so much surprised as… disappointed. He sighed. "Damn. I thought she'd go a bit easier on you. She told me that she would."

"She says a lot of things, Jasper." Rosalie bit her lip, then brightened. "It doesn't matter, anyway. Alice here has been nice enough to make up for it."

I blushed when I felt all of their gazes on me. I didn't think I'd done anything particularly noteworthy – only behaved like a decent human being. The fact that my behaviour was worthy of praise in this damn school was a sad lookout for the whole lot of us.

"Thanks for looking out for her," Jasper said softly. It sounded like he meant it.

"Oh, come on, you would've done the same."

Except, now that I thought about it, he hadn't. He knew how Maria spoke about me, but I was so far beneath his notice that he hadn't even considered interjecting on my behalf. I wasn't on his radar enough for him to be kind to me until very, very recently.

Jasper seemed to come to this realisation at the same time I did. His eyes shone with regret as he responded, "I will in the future."

I didn't know how to respond. Glancing away, I willed the heat out of my cheeks. I could still feel Jasper's gaze on me when I wasn't looking. It burned like an open flame against my skin.

"Do you guys want to go to lunch?" Edward suggested brightly. "There's a place round the corner that does really good…"

"Forget lunch," Jasper interrupted. "Let's just ditch the rest of the day."

That got my attention. "Ditch school?" It was a foreign concept to me. My mom had worked very hard to earn the money to pay for the small portion of my fees that weren't covered by my scholarship. In return, I went to all my classes and got as close to perfect grades as I could.

Not to brag, but I hadn't gotten anything less than an A since freshman year.

Jasper gave me a small smile, as though he could read my thoughts on my face. "It's only one afternoon, Alice. And I doubt it's going to affect your work."

I dithered. A few weeks ago, if someone had told me that Jasper Whitlock would be asking me to ditch school with him, I'd have busted a gut laughing. It's funny how quickly things can change. Even still, I was about to say no until I glanced at Rosalie.

She still had that bright smile on her face, but the cracks in her dignified mask were beginning to show. I could see how badly she needed to escape.

One day to help take a new friend's mind of a shitty situation? I could do that much.

"Alright," I agreed, and all three of them smiled.

* * *

We ended up, in another bizarre turn of events, back in Brooklyn. Not just anywhere, but back in the very same coffee shop I had met the two boys in a couple of weeks before. It was more relaxed this time. We claimed the couches in the far corner; Rosalie and I on one, Edward and Jasper on the other. Jasper sat directly across from me, which meant that I couldn't avoid looking right at him.

Even in that mustard-colored St Jude's shirt, he was so damn pretty that I wanted to cry. I hugged my coffee to my chest and listened to the boys talk. They were having an animated discussion about some party or other – I wasn't following along with all the names they kept dropping, but it gave me an excuse to stare at Jasper without looking like a freak.

"Emmett," Rosalie said suddenly, setting her mug down a little too forcefully and sloshing mocha all over the table. Jasper and Edward both paused in their conversation in order to raise their eyebrows at her.

"What about him?" Edward said carefully.

"He's at the Ostroff Center, right?"

"Yeah," Jasper confirmed. "But, Rosie…"

"I want to go and see him."

The boys exchanged a swift, loaded look. For a few moments, it seemed as though they were having a silent conversation. I watched them carefully; from what I could gather, Edward looked the most staunchly opposed to the idea. Jasper frowned, then shrugged. He turned to give Rosalie an apologetic smile.

"I really don't think that's a good idea," he said, not unkindly.

Rosalie seemed to pick up on the fact that it was Edward that she needed to convince, too, because she dismissed Jasper in favour of his bronze-haired friend instantly.

"Edward, please. I know that he might not want to see me, but…"

"It's not that he won't want to see you, Rose," Edward said heavily. "It's that he's been doing so well. I think seeing you would set him back a bit, and I really don't want that to happen."

I had no idea what the hell was going on, but boy was I intrigued. My gaze kept bouncing between them like I was watching a three-way tennis match.

"Isn't that Emmett's choice, though?" she argued. "I need to talk to him, to apologise. I feel like it's my fault…"

"It's not your fault!" Jasper interjected fiercely. "Don't say that."

"It is," Rosalie argued. Edward looked inclined to agree with her, but he didn't offer an opinion. "I fucked up, and if I hadn't left, he would never have ended up in Ostroff."

"No, but he probably would've ended up in an early grave."

"Jasper," Edward warned. Jasper glanced at his best friend, contrition flashing across his handsome features.

"I'm sorry. I didn't… look, we both know that Emmett was headed down a really bad path long before he met Rosie. She didn't do this."

"She didn't help, either," Edward retorted, and Rosalie winced. I reached over to pat her on the shoulder, feeling useless and completely lost. Edward seemed to catch my comforting gesture in his peripheral vision, because his expression softened as he turned to Rose. "I'm sorry, Rose. I don't want to put this on you, and I know that… look, maybe in a few weeks you could see him? Just not right now. It won't do either of you any good."

Rosalie bit her lip. Was it just me, or did her eyes look a bit too shiny? "Okay," she nodded. "I'll wait. If you think it's best."

"I do."

"Um…" Everyone jumped when I spoke, and three sets of eyes flashed to me. They all seemed chagrined when they realised that I'd been witness to their whole conversation. I tried not to let it get to me that they'd forgotten I was there.

"Sorry, Alice," Jasper, surprisingly, was the first to offer an apology. "We shouldn't have started talking about our stupid past drama. So, um…" His gaze swept the coffee house as he tried to grasp for conversation topics. "Do you come to this place often?"

I burst out laughing. "Seriously? 'Do you come here often?' That's what you're going with?"

He grinned sheepishly. "Lame, huh?"

"I've heard worse. Not that that's anything to aspire to."

"Well, in fairness, I don't know what to say to you. Every time I try to make conversation you jump down my throat about something."

"That's not true!" I protested, leaning forward. "Name one time that's happened."

"Last time we were here," Jasper replied, inclining himself towards me across the table as he warmed to his topic. "I said something about steak and you went off on one."

"You were being a pretentious ass by turning your nose up at street food!"

"See?" he laughed. "You're doing it again. I'm not pretentious, you've just got a chip on your shoulder."

I made a noise like an angry cat. Tossing my hair over one shoulder so that the pink stripe flashed under the overhead lights, I jabbed my finger accusingly at him. "You don't know anything about me, Whitlock."

"Tiny girl, big temper," he said, still grinning. "That's one thing I know about you."

"I'm not that small."

"Please, I could fit you in my pocket."

"Try it and I'd claw your eyes out."

"Like I said, you've got a temper," Jasper replied with another chuckle. "For someone so small, you're kind of terrifying."

"Aw, are you intimidated by women with opinions?" I joked.

Jasper smiled. "You'd be hard pushed to find a guy who isn't. But they make life interesting."

I fell silent at that. It was only then that I realised that we'd been having an argument for the last few minutes without including either of the others. Edward and Rosalie were both watching our exchange with smirks on their faces. If they'd had popcorn, they would've been eating it.

Jasper seemed to come to the same realisation that I did, because he cleared his throat awkwardly and struck up a conversation with Edward. I sat there for a moment, quietly stunned. That had to have been the most words Jasper and I had ever exchanged, and they were… well, they were fun.

Rosalie leaned close to me on the sofa whilst the boys were talking. Her violet eyes sparked with mischief as she murmured into my ear. "Wow, Alice. I don't think I've seen Jasper that entertained in the last two years."

I fought against the triumphant grin that wanted to make itself known on my face.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Chapter Four**_

* * *

Seth's band practice consisted of four teenage guys and a dingy garage in Williamsburg. Seth always invited me, and I always went along. The boys were good and all, but the music was never my motivation for going. It was Sue Clearwater's sublime cooking that made me show up faithfully every Saturday.

I was tucking into a plate of pancakes, syrup and bacon – fried, not microwaved – as the boys continued their weekly fight about which song should go where in their set list. Jared, the most easygoing of the four, had stopped listening. Instead, he was scanning the Times from behind his drum kit. Paul and Jake had abandoned their keyboard and guitar respectively, and were yelling in each other's faces. I chewed on a strip of bacon as Seth dove between them. It was always poor Seth that had to intervene.

"Just let them duke it out, Seth," I offered mildly. I was perched on top of one of their amps, safely out of arm's reach. "They'll calm down afterward."

"You're wrong!" Paul yelled. "It'll sound like shit if we do it that way round!"

"No!" Jacob expostulated. "Because it makes more sense if we lead in from…"

"Guys!" Seth wheedled. "Can we not…"

"Hey, Alice," Jared said quietly, dragging my focus from the argument. "Don't you go to Constance-Billard?"

"Yeah." I frowned at him. "Why?"

"It's partnered with St Jude's Academy for Boys, right?"

"Yeah."

"Do you know a guy called Jasper Whitlock?"

My heart nearly stopped beating. Wide-eyed, I blinked at Jared for a full minute before I found my voice. "Yeah, I do."

"His name is all over the front page."

Abandoning my breakfast, I rounded Jared's drum kit to peer over his shoulder at the newspaper. One glance at the headline made me feel as though I had swallowed a rock.

 _ **WHITLOCK ENTERPRISES CEO ARRESTED FOR EMBEZZLEMENT.**_

"Oh my God," I whispered. Without waiting for permission, I tugged the paper from Jared's hands and scanned the first paragraph of the article.

 _Peter Whitlock, billionaire CEO of Whitlock Enterprises Incorporated, was arrested late last night on suspicion of several counts of embezzlement, fraud and, sources say, possession of illegal narcotics. It is thought that Whitlock had been under investigation from the FBI for several months leading up to his arrest, though this has not been confirmed. Whitlock's influence in the business and financial world is far-reaching, and serious charges such as these could severely impact both the stock market and Manhattan's…_

I stopped reading at the fold in the page, feeling sickened. Jasper's dad was in jail.

"Tough break for your friend, huh?" Jared said, reaching out one hand for the paper. I gave it back to him in a daze. "I mean, imagine having that much money and finding out that your dad is a crook."

I couldn't get the picture out of my head. Jasper's dad being led from their Manhattan apartment in handcuffs while he and his mom looked on in horror. I fought back another wave of crippling sympathy.

"Rich dick probably had it coming, though," Jared continued. "You know, he's the reason that my dad got fired from his law firm? They had him on retainer as a client, and apparently my dad pissed Whitlock off at some deposition for something. If you ask me, this is karma."

I was barely listening. All I could see was that horrified look on Jasper's face. That picture was splashed across the front page for everyone in America to see. Poor, poor Jasper. My heart constricted painfully in my chest. If I were him, I'd want to run away and never look back.

Maybe I'd been wrong. Maybe I was better off not being one of the elite.

"I, um, I've got to take off," I said, turning abruptly and crossing the garage to gather up my jacket and bag. Seth and the other two boys paused their ruckus.

"Allie? Where are you going?" Seth demanded.

"I've… I need to check on a friend," I replied, already ducking under the half-open door. "I'll see you later! Tell your mom thanks for the food!"

I didn't catch Seth's bewildered response. Halfway down his drive, I pulled my phone out of my jacket pocket and started to dial.

Edward answered on the third ring.

"Hey, Alice."

"Hey. I just saw the paper."

"Oh." He sighed heavily on the other end of the line. "Yeah, it's pretty rough. My mom hasn't stopped talking about it all morning. She has all of her witches round to discuss it. You wouldn't want to be in my living room right now."

"Is Jasper okay? Have you spoken to him?"

Edward hesitated. "He's not answering his phone. Rose spoke to him earlier this morning, though, she says he's doing as well as can be expected."

I bit my lip. "I can't imagine what's going through his head right now."

"Well, no. It sucks. Maria probably didn't help – Rose said she went off in a rage when she found out. She told him that his dad had jeopardized her mom's fashion label, and her mom wanted out of their deal, and she was talking about how it was his fault and he should have warned her…"

I exhaled sharply. "Bitch."

"Preaching to the choir, Alice."

"Do you know where he is?" I didn't know why I asked that. It wasn't as though we were close enough for the answer to be any of my business.

"Not a clue," Edward replied. Concern laced his voice. "He'll turn up, though. Jasper likes to get away and out of his head when he gets bad news. Want me to call you if he surfaces?"

"Yeah, just… just let me know that he's okay." Again, I didn't really have any right to ask. But I was worried about him, and surely that counted for something? "Just send me a text or something. And tell him… tell him that I'm sorry."

"I will. Thanks, Alice." Edward hung up. I stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk, just blinking down at the phone in my hand. I wished, not for the first time, that I had Jasper's number. If he wasn't answering Edward, there was no way he would pick up if I called, but it didn't stop me hoping.

I couldn't believe Maria. That was a new level of callous bitchiness, even for her. I shook my head in an attempt to clear my thoughts. It was just after midday, and my mom wasn't expecting me to show up at the gallery until gone two, but I could no longer just sit idly by and fret about Jasper. With a sigh, I headed in the direction of the subway.

* * *

When I got to the gallery, I let myself in. The place was still a mess, only half set up for the new exhibition that started in two days. I smiled to myself, narrowly skirting a half-unpacked box lying in the middle of the floor. Mom was a genius when it came to art, but she was genuinely terrible at the practicalities of life. That's where I came in.

"Mom?" I yelled. "You here?"

"In the back room!" she yelled back. When I found her, she was kneeling on the floor next to a spread-out instruction manual for assembling a shelving unit. The pieces surrounded her in a haphazard circle, and her caramel hair was pulled up in a messy bun. She had that flushed, flustered look on her face that she often got when she was overwhelmed.

"Are you okay?" I chuckled, crossing the room to kneel in the chaos beside her.

"They never told me that I'd have to build the shelves myself," she said in a small voice. Grinning, I reached over and tugged the instructions from under her left knee. I examined them for a moment.

"Okay, see, here's your problem. This squiggly bit B needs to go into this flat bit A. You're trying to put it into this other flat bit, C, and it won't fit."

"Oh," Mom said, looking sheepish. "But they look the same."

"It's marked on the side, see?" I pointed to the edge of the shelf, where the letter C was clearly stamped. "You need to make sure that all the bits match up to the right letters."

Mom smiled, brown eyes sparkling. "What would I do without you, Allie?"

"Crash and burn," I replied. "Obviously."

She laughed. "You want to help me with this?"

"I'll do you one better," I told her. "I'll put this together, and you go make us some coffee."

Mom kissed my forehead. "You're a godsend, my darling."

I smiled as she scrambled to her feet and headed into the small back kitchen to make our drinks. This distraction – an actual task for me to accomplish – was exactly what I had needed. I began to meticulously assemble the shelving unit as Mom chatted to me through the open door about the gallery opening.

"And then, would you believe, they delayed the shipment by another day," she said. "So that set us back again. I don't want to phone Curtis and tell him that we'll have to delay the opening, so I need to pull double-time here to make sure it's done."

"Are you going to need a hand during the week?" I asked. I had a busy schedule, but my mom's work was the only thing paying our bills. I could make the time.

"Oh, no, sweetie, you're okay. I was actually speaking to Carlisle about it, and he put me in touch with a couple of friends of his who are in the art world. They offered to lend a hand."

"Who's Carli… wait, Mom, are you talking about Dr. Cullen?" I was so surprised that my hand slipped and I accidentally raked the screwdriver across my knuckle. Wincing, I put my scraped finger in my mouth.

"Oh, yes, he's been just lovely about it!" Mom appeared in the doorway holding two mugs of coffee. She handed one to me and sat down. "I didn't expect him to go to so much trouble."

There was something in her voice that made my eyes narrow in suspicion. She caught me giving her the side-eye and pursed her lips. "What?"

"Don't 'what' me, mother. You know what."

"Alice."

"Mother."

"You're giving me that look."

"You're flirting with a married man."

Mom looked scandalized. "I am _not_ flirting!"

"Please!" I rolled my eyes. "You're practically giddy at the thought of him. Don't get me wrong, I sympathize, but he's got a wife."

"I'm aware of that."

"I'm just saying… be careful."

"Allie, I love you, but you really don't know what you're talking about as far as this is concerned."

"If it's so innocent then why do you look so guilty?" I challenged. Mom opened her mouth, but before she could respond we heard the chime of the shop door opening. We looked at each other for a moment. "I'll get it," I sighed, clambering to my feet.

When I emerged into the gallery proper, my jaw just about hit the deck.

It was Jasper.

He was wearing black jeans and an indigo sweater that matched his eyes. His honey-blond locks looked more untamed than his usual tousled style, and he had dark shadows under his eyes, but he still looked a damn sight better than any of the art hanging around him.

"Hi," I whispered, struck by a sudden fit of nervousness.

"Hi." He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans, glancing around. "Um, Edward told me that your mom owned this place. He said you hang out here on Saturdays. I… uh, I don't really know why I'm here."

"That's okay," I said slowly. "How… I mean, how are you doing?"

He grimaced. "You saw the paper."

"Everyone in New York saw the paper."

Biting his lip, he addressed his shoes as he answered. "I'm okay. Well, I mean, I'm not okay, but I'll deal. I just didn't really want to be at home today."

"So you came here?" I fought the urge to smile, despite the circumstances. Never in my wildest dreams did I expect Jasper to seek me out.

"You're the only person I know who isn't… y'know, involved with all that stuff. I needed a break from all the circling vultures." He shrugged like it was no big deal, but we both knew better than that. My heart thumped painfully in my chest when I looked at him.

"You wanted some normality?"

"I guess so."

"Well…" I paused. "You wouldn't, by any chance, know how to assemble flat-pack furniture?"

Jasper's eyes snapped to mine as he regarded me curiously. "Why?"

"Because there's a bunch of it in the back room that needs putting together and my mom is useless at it."

And then, unbelievably, Jasper actually cracked a smile. "Sure. Let me have a look."

I led him to the back room. My mom glanced up questioningly as we approached, and her eyes widened when she took in Jasper. I wasn't sure if that was because she recognized him from the paper or because he was just that unbelievably gorgeous.

Maybe both.

"Um, Mom, this is Jasper," I said, gesturing between the two as I made introductions. "He goes to school with me. Jasper, this is my mom, Esme."

"Nice to meet you, ma'am," Jasper stepped forward, offering his hand for my mom to shake. She looked flustered by the display of manners, but accepted the handshake with a smile.

"It's lovely to meet you, Jasper. You're a friend of Alice's?"

"I am," he replied, then glanced at me. "At least, I think I am."

"Sure," I responded with a small smile. "You are."

Jasper turned back to survey the flat-pack nightmare that was spread across the back room. His lips twitched in amusement as he bent down to study my handiwork. "It's a good thing I'm here. No offence, ladies, but you're really bad at this."

"No argument here," Mom agreed, standing up. She caught my eye and mouthed 'wow, he's _cute_ '. I ignored her.

"Argument here," I piped up, glaring at the back of his blond curls. "I've been doing a good job."

Jasper turned to look at me over his shoulder with a grin. Then, holding my gaze, he gently tugged on one of the shelves.

The whole structure collapsed.

"You were saying?" he prompted. I opened my mouth, but I had absolutely no comeback. Jasper chuckled, leaning across to pick up the instruction manual. He barely glanced at it before arming himself with a screwdriver and setting to work.

"Do you want a cup of coffee?" I asked him. I wasn't sure what else to do. The butterflies in my stomach were dancing the damn Macarena.

"That would be great, thanks," Jasper replied, gaze focused on the screw he was tightening.

I set off into the kitchen. The door had barely swung closed when it opened again and my mother followed me in. Her eyes were alight with the thirst for information.

"Okay, who is that very handsome young man?" she demanded in a whisper.

"Mom…"

"Alice, please tell me! I'm dying here!"

"That's Jasper Whitlock."

The penny dropped. Mom's mouth opened in surprise. "As in…?"

"As in Peter Whitlock's son. Yeah. He's just hiding out here with me so that he doesn't have to deal with all the negative stuff at home."

Mom pressed one hand to her mouth. "Oh, that poor boy." She paused, and from the glint in her eye I could tell that I wouldn't like whatever she was about to say. I busied myself by extracting a mug from the cupboard and taking my time pouring the coffee from the pot. "He's quite charming, isn't he?"

"I suppose so."

"I knew it! You like him!"

"Mother!" I hissed, pointing the coffee pot at her sternly. "Keep your voice down!"

She obliged, but showed no sign of stopping the interrogation. "This is good news! I mean, he obviously must like you, too. Boys don't just show up at their friend's mom's workplace and offer to build furniture for them."

"They do if their own house is crawling with paparazzi," I shot back.

"Hmm," Mom responded, like she didn't believe a word of it. I felt myself go scarlet.

"Don't be all… just… don't embarrass me," I pleaded. She held up her hands in surrender.

"Would I? I'm going to go out the front now and leave you two to it." With an exaggerated wink, she backed out of the room. I heard her thanking Jasper for his efforts, and then the sound of the door to the back room closing as she left.

Emerging from the kitchen, I nearly dropped Jasper's mug in astonishment.

"What the hell?" I demanded. The shelving unit was already more assembled in the last five minutes' of Jasper's attention than it had been in half an hour when I was working on it. "How did you do that?"

Jasper chuckled as he accepted the mug I offered. "I used to build model airplanes as a kid. It's not that different."

"You did?" I settled down on top of an upturned box to watch him work.

"Yeah."

"I would never have thought that."

He grinned. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Alice Brandon."

I found myself smiling in return. "Enlighten me, then."

"You first." He paused in the act of screwing another shelf into place. "What's the deal with you and Edward?"

I nearly choked on a mouthful of coffee. "Sorry?"

"He won't tell me."

"What do you mean?"

"Are you guys…"

"What? No. No, we're friends. That's all." I felt like my denial came out a bit too strongly, because Jasper raised one eyebrow at me. "I mean, not that there's anything wrong with Edward, he's great, but I just don't see him like that, you know?"

"Yeah, he doesn't really do it for me, either," he joked. "I always thought that him and Rosie would be a thing, what with the constant bickering, but I let that one go."

"They seem to get on well enough," I said.

"Oh, they do _now_ , but they hated each other as kids. It used to annoy the hell out of me."

I laughed. "Why did they hate each other?"

"Rose thought Edward was a know-it-all, Ed thought that she was stuck-up." Jasper shrugged. "They got over it once they bothered to get to know each other."

"She means a lot to you," I surmised. "Rosalie."

"Yeah, she's about the only member of my family I actually like. She's more like a sister than a cousin."

"See, my sister and I can't agree on much lately."

"How old is she?"

"Thirteen. She's turned into a bratty nightmare. We used to be really close, but now she's constantly in a mood."

"I imagine, if she's anything like you, she's got one hell of a temper on her."

I snorted. "She's worse."

Jasper chuckled. "So, you've got a bratty sister. What about the guy who works in the coffee shop?"

"Seth? What about him?"

"Is he your boyfriend?"

"No. He's my oldest friend. Our moms have been friends since just after we were born. We went to elementary school together, and then middle school."

"And then you went to Constance."

"Yup."

Jasper seemed to consider his next question for a long time before he asked it. "What was that like for you? Leaving behind your friends and starting at a prep school on the Upper East Side?"

I thought about it. "Lonely."

"Alice?" I glanced up, meeting his deep blue gaze. There was something lurking in the indigo depths of his irises that I couldn't identify. "I'm sorry. About Maria. I know she's a bitch to you. And… I'm sorry about… about me, too. For never bothering to speak to you."

I waved one hand dismissively. "Bygones."

"I mean it."

"Well, thanks." I stared down at my jean-clad legs for a few seconds. "Can I ask a question?"

"Sure."

"What's it like, your dad being who he is?"

Jasper blinked at me. The seconds seemed to stretch into minutes as we regarded each other, neither of us able to drop our gaze. Eventually, he answered with a small, sad smile. "Lonely," he echoed my earlier sentiment.

I smiled. He smiled.

"At least we're both in the same boat," I offered.

"You're right," Jasper replied softly. "Who knew me and you had so much in common?"

We caught each other's eye again, and this time, we cracked up laughing.

* * *

 _A/N: So I'm taking Jasper and Alice's interactions in a slightly different direction. It's going to move a bit slower, but I'd love to know what you think so far!_

 _PJ x_


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